Page 132 of Emerald Vices

Shura catches up in the driveway, and we leap into the car. He cues up the locations of the cars that Natalia and her security detail took.

Every minute of driving without finding them is agony. I rip around corners and scream down the straightaways, my only thoughts for my family.

And then we find it.

The wreckage.

“Shit,” Shura curses. “I think that Jeep is Olaf’s.”

But I’m looking past the Jeep to the car wrapped around a huge oak further down the road.

I slam to a stop and shoot out of the vehicle. Shura yells something about backup, but I don’t need backup. All I need is to get to the scrap metal that once held my family.

“Natalia!” I roar. “Natalia!”

As I approach, I hear the whine of an engine. And the wail of an infant.

My heart is lodged in my throat as I round the car and nearly drop to my knees with relief. Misha and Natalia are huddled on the ground. Natalia is holding the babies, her head dipped over them. They’re dirty and bleeding and shaking, but alive. So fucking alive.

This time, I do drop to my knees. But only Misha and Remi look up at me. Natalia doesn’t lift her head. She’s too busy sobbing into Sarra’s pink blanket that is now brown with dust and grease.

That’s when I realize…

The blue bundle is empty.

Where is Grigory?

Where is my son?

Natalia is still sobbing, her arms shaking.

I look to Misha. “What happened?”

“They came after us,” he rasps. His face is a mess of dry blood and wet tears. “They rammed into our car… They took Grigory…”

It’s too horrible to be true. Too much to process.

“Natalia,” I whisper. It’s a plea. A question.

Is it true?

Is he okay?

Natalia just sobs harder, squeezing Sarra to her chest. That’s all the answer I need.

“We’re going to sort this all out, I promise you. We’re going to get him back.”

We have to.

There’s no other choice.

I wave Misha and Remi back towards my car and scoop Natalia into my arms, baby and all. She doesn’t fight me. I’m not sure she’s capable of it right now.

“Are you okay?” I ask as we walk.

She doesn’t answer, but I try to assess her for injuries. There are scrapes across her forehead. A bruise on her cheek. But otherwise, she seems okay. Physically, at least.

I place her in the back seat of my car and Remi jumps in after her, sticking to her like glue, licking away her tears.